1. The White Box


    Date: 7/10/2017, Categories: Fiction, Cock & ball torture, Cruelty, Slavery, Torture, Water Sports/Pissing, Author: senorlongo, Source: sexstories.com

    Martin is brutally tortured by his wife and her lover to turn him into a mindless slave and steal his fortune. Unfortunately for her, she is the instrument of her own failure and Martin's revenge. A story with a happy ending in two parts. CHAPTER 1 I’d had a long Friday, beginning early before eight as was my habit and running straight through until after six without even a single break, mostly because of one asshole client. I would have told him to take his business and shove it if it wasn’t a multi-million dollar contract. I was really beat when I finally opened the door just after seven. I’d tried to call my wife three times, but she’d obviously been out so I left a message on the machine. That was the best I could do. Dropping my briefcase on the floor I walked into the kitchen. “Hi, honey—sorry I’m so late. It was that damned Henderson. That man can be impossible sometimes. I wonder, too often, if his business is worth all the aggravation he gives us.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek and noticed the table was only set for one. “Not eating?” “No, dear I had a big lunch around one with a friend. I doubt I could eat even a single bite. I’m trying something new. I hope you like it. It’s a variation on the stew I usually make.” I removed my jacket and tie, pulled a beer from the fridge and sat at the table. “Why don’t you tell me about your day,” I asked as I dug into the bowl. “I will, but after you’ve finished. How is it?” “Okay, I guess, but the taste is kind of strange. ...
    I appreciate your thoughtfulness and effort, but I don’t know if I’d want it again.” Dana sat next to me so I leaned over for a kiss. Surprisingly, she turned her head so my lips landed on her cheek. I continued to eat and when I was about two-thirds through I asked her, “What’s in here, anywa…?” I never finished the sentence. I was out cold, my head crashing onto the table. I was cold when I woke up—shivering, in fact. I was still groggy and as I looked down in the darkness to barely see that I was naked. Looking up I saw my wrists were locked onto chains that hung from ring bolts in the huge beams that supported the old house. My legs were secured the same way into the floor—screw eyes securely drilled into the hard stone. I knew where I was—the root cellar, an area in the basement of our house that we rarely used. There was but a single bare bulb in the center of the room. It was cold and damp, completely below ground with stone walls more than a foot thick, the thick wooden ceiling covered with four inches of reinforced concrete and the garage. I couldn’t understand how I had gotten here or why. What the hell was Dana up to? The light went on and she walked in a few minutes later. “Well, well, I see you’re finally awake. It took you long enough. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here. I’ll tell you—I know you’re cheating on me.” “That’s not true. I’ve never cheated. I’ve never even thought of cheating! You know that.” “Do I? I have it on good authority that you are, ...
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